


You Deserve the World

by canicallyoumaddie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol Usage, Blood Drinking, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Mild (failed) compulsion, Olia is Lance’s PA, Smooching, Vampire Lance, ex-astronaut Shiro, human shiro, movie star lance, vampire powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-13 21:10:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canicallyoumaddie/pseuds/canicallyoumaddie
Summary: The only thing Lance loves more than fame is beefy boys with beautiful eyes, but he’s got a secret that may make things complicated. Is it still possible to be happy and in love when you’re a vampire?





	You Deserve the World

**Author's Note:**

> HOO BOY IT’S DONE IN TIME! I’ve been talking about this fic on twitter for a while and I’m so happy that I finished it in time for Halloween! For what it lacks in spookiness, I hope it makes up in fluffiness! I know nothing about New York or celebrities so this is completely out of my own head and fictional so please suspend your disbelief for a second lol. 
> 
> TW for mention of car accident near the end. It's not graphic but it is mentioned 
> 
> _Also, a disclaimer: Lance does attempt to compel Shiro into agreeing to something, which could be interpreted as non-con. I debated tagging it for that, but decided against it because it is not anything harmful or sexual in nature, and Lance does NOT intend for it to be predatory at all. I did want to add this disclaimer though because I don't want anyone to be uncomfortable._
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading, please leave a comment and a kudos if you like this fic!! I love reading y’all’s comments and I hope you enjoy this food. (づ￣ ³￣)づ <3
> 
> A big thanks to Crys for beta-ing this for me!! Thanks for your support and dealing with my screenshots <3

Lance squinted in the sunlight as he stepped out of the darkness of the limousine, quickly slipping on a fashionable hat with a flat brim before the light hit his face. He opened his bag and pulled out a pair of Prada sunglasses, which he promptly unfolded and slipped on.

“It looks like we just managed to avoid the paparazzi,” a woman with cropped brown hair and a folio said as she climbed out of the vehicle behind him.

“Thank _God_ ,” Lance said, casting a cursory glance at his surroundings. “Sometimes a guy just wants to get a cappuccino in _peace_.”

“And you know you have a meet and greet at three p.m. today, before your interview?”

Lance waved a hand and replied, “Yes, Olia, unlike some of your past clients I actually _read_ my itineraries.”

“Of course, sir.”

Lance nodded to his bodyguard, who opened the door to a small coffee shop about the size of a one-bedroom apartment. He wrinkled his nose at the sound of fervent whispering around him when he took off his sunglasses and held them loosely in his hand. “You'd think they'd get used to seeing me here, it's not like I go anywhere _else_ for coffee.”

“At least they have the respect to leave you alone,” a warm voice said, prompting Lance to turn around quickly in surprise.

“Allura! I thought you were in L.A.!” Lance said, embracing her and giving her a peck on the cheek. “You said you had a shoot that would go through the weekend.”

The woman smiled and ran a hand through long, curly white hair. “We finished early! So here I am, back in town. I thought I might see you here.”

Lance laughed and shrugged. “You know I have but one vice.”

“That's true—at least it's one of the more innocuous ones,” Allura replied.

Lance’s attention was briefly directed toward Olia, who handed him a coffee and gestured toward outside with a phone against her ear. Lance nodded and she left the shop.

“So how have you been?” Lance asked, sliding into a seat at a small table in a dimly lit corner, motioning for Allura to join him. “I feel like I haven't seen you in ages.”

“Fine, fine! I've had a lot of gigs recently, and I'm going to be in a spread next month. Can't tell you with whom, though,” she said, winking. “It's a surprise.”

Lance leaned on a palm and flashed her a grin. “That's great! I'm so happy for you.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Now aren't you glad I convinced you to move here?”

Allura rolled her eyes with a smile, conceding, “Yes, _fine_ , it was a good idea to move here. You were right.”

“See, I told you.” Lance smiled into his coffee cup as he took a sip. “I'm a genius.”

“So what are you doing right now? Did you get that part you auditioned for months ago?”

Lance slammed his cup down, startling her. “Oh my god,” he said dramatically, “I can't believe I didn't tell you! I got a call the other day asking me to be in a movie they're saying is going to be ‘the next big hit’.”

Allura gaped at him. “ _No_.”

“Yes! I know!”

“That's amazing, when do you start filming? Have you gotten a script yet?” Allura asked, lacing her fingers under her chin. “ _Please_ tell me this isn't another tear-jerker. I don't know if my heart can handle it.”

Lance laughed and shook his head. “It's not a tear-jerker. It's actually a comedy, and you _know_ that's my brand.”

“Oh, I remember that from college.” Allura gave him a knowing smile. “I'm happy for you!”

Lance grinned from ear to ear. “Thanks. I've actually got an interview after a meet and greet. Apparently someone wants to know more about my _love life_.” Lance rolled his eyes and slumped in his chair. “I'd be more pumped if I actually _had_ a love life to talk about.”

Allura patted his arm sympathetically, shaking her head. “So things with that guy a few months ago didn't work out?”

“No,” Lance sighed. “And I tried asking out a girl I met at my last premiere but nope—struck out again.”

“That's a shame. They're missing out on a great guy,” Allura said, frowning. “You're a sweetheart, Lance. Don't let them get you down.”

Lance sipped at his coffee and mused for a moment. “Maybe I'll meet someone soon. You know what they say about windows and doors.”

“But in this case the doors are suitors who have no idea what they're missing out on.” Allura pursed her lips, then looked at her watch. “Oh geez, I've gotta go. I have a lunch date with a photographer I met.” She winked at Lance and grinned. “He's got the same long, white hair that I have and is apparently a huge nerd. We’ll see how _that_ goes.”

“You know you're weak for nerds,” Lance said, laughing. “Good luck. Hopefully he's not like every other guy you've dated.”

“Lance, _we_ dated.”

Lance threw his arms out to his sides, nearly sweeping the cup off the table. “I know! I'm an asshole!”

Allura patted him on the head as she got up to walk out of the restaurant. “Sure, you squishy bean.”

“See you later, hon,” Lance said, and the bell jingled when she left. His face went slack and he stared at his coffee. “Things are a little more complicated now,” he muttered into the caramel-colored liquid. His stomach growled and he grimaced. “Shit.”

He got up from his chair, gestured to the door to get his bodyguard’s attention, and they both walked outside to join a frantic Olia on the phone.

“What do you _mean_ the meet and greet is outside?” she was saying. “That's unacceptable, is there any way to move the event indoors? You can do under an awning?” She looked frantically at Lance, who shrugged, and she added, “fine, fine—awning is okay. Just _no direct sunlight,_ please. He has very delicate eyes. Yes. Thank you.” She got off the phone and looked at Lance, more exasperated than he'd ever seen her.

“What's wrong? They mess up the venue?” Lance asked.

Olia attempted to school her expression into one more serious. “They did not tell me that they wanted to hold the meet and greet outside. I told them that wasn't an option and they suggested under an awning. It was the best I could do without cancelling. I'm sorry.”

Lance’s gut was telling him it'd probably be better to cancel, but he shook his head. “You did the best you could do, thank you.”

“Of course, sir.”

Lance bit his lip, unintentionally so hard it drew blood. He winced. “Could we uh…Is there time to go home?”

Olia confirmed that they still had a few hours, and opened the door to the limousine for him. “I'm sure you're hungry, we can stop by the house and then we can go to the event.”

Lance swung himself into the car and grinned at her, giving her a pair of finger guns when she joined him. “Thanks, I'm starving.”

 

——————

 

Shiro was nervous. He usually didn't get nervous, but he was about to meet his absolute favorite actor at a meet and greet he probably paid too much to go to. Keith had laughed at him for being so invested, especially since Shiro was older and pretty famous in his own right for his piloting skills. But Shiro was damn near ready to explode because he was finally going to meet the illustrious Lance Álvarez-McClain.

When Shiro had first watched Lance in a film, he was instantly enamored with this beautiful man with flawless tan skin and deep blue eyes. Keith called it a “gay awakening.” Shiro called it love at first sight.

He gripped the steering wheel of his car so tightly his knuckles were white as he headed from his apartment just outside the city to the event. He hoped against hope that he would actually get to say something (read: would actually have the guts to _talk_ to him) to Lance, in order to maybe, just _maybe_ get to tell him how much he loved his work.

Oh, and Keith went to college with Lance. There was that.

“Shiro, please don't ask me any more questions—I told you, I just had a freshman seminar with him. I didn't talk to him much, but when I did, he got weirdly competitive. After a while we almost became friends, but then he got caught up doing shows and stuff and we lost touch,” Keith said from the passenger seat. “Oh—and don't freak him out with how much you know about him.”

“I won't!”

Keith gave him an unconvinced look, pursing his lips and raking his eyes over Shiro’s face. “I don't believe you.”

“I promise. Scout’s honor.”

“See, you say that, but I still worry that you don't understand what ‘creepy’ means.”

Shiro gaped at him, clutching his chest as if in pain. “I am _not_ creepy.”

“So you keep saying. But I know you know every bit of trivia about this guy,” Keith replied, picking at a hangnail. He looked up and met Shiro’s eyes. “But that’s none of my business.”

“I just wanna _talk_ to him.”

“Shiro, you’re literally going to a meet and greet. It's in the name. You're gonna meet him.”

Shiro banged his head against the headrest and groaned. “I know but I want to get to _know_ him.”

Keith shook his head and patted Shiro’s arm sympathetically. “I know, dude. But don't expect it to happen.”

Shiro sighed and scanned the streets for a parking garage entrance. “I know. But a guy can dream.”

Keith had only really agreed to ride with him as moral support, and promptly left him in front of the venue, quoting, “I need some new books.”

Shiro knew that boy already was working on five books at home; he didn't need any more. He watched Keith speed-walk away until he turned a corner and was out of sight.

“So much for moral support,” Shiro muttered. It wasn't like Keith to abandon him, but Shiro supposed that it was because he and Lance weren't on amazing terms since graduating school. Also…he didn’t pay the exorbitant fee to go to the meet and greet, so he couldn’t’ve gotten in anyway.

He wandered closer to the venue, noticing that the crowd had been steadily increasing in size since he arrived. “Crap,” he muttered, jogging over to the site and giving a particularly scary-looking bouncer his name to get through the uninvited crowd.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw the limo pull up, and didn't realize he had kept holding his breath until black started creeping in on either side of his vision. He wheezed when air finally flooded his lungs again. He got a few strange looks from other crowd members and frowned when he made eye contact with them. Soon the strange looks stopped and he could once again focus his attention on…

_Lance_.

He was even more beautiful in person. Shiro watched as Lance threw his head back and laughed at something a fan said. “Holy shit,” he whispered, completely enamored. Lance began to make his rounds, and Shiro began to sweat; he thought he was prepared, but he was woefully mistaken. He cleared his throat several times, praying his voice wouldn’t crack when he made an attempt to speak. Oh god, he was coming closer.

Lance finally stopped in front of him, bluest blue eyes staring into his, and Shiro lamely waved a hand and wheezed, “Hi.”

 

—————-

 

When Lance stepped out of the limo, he was just expecting a bunch of girls fawning over him and practically drooling. Those girls he knew what to do with. What he _didn’t_ know what to do with was the tall drink of water standing near the end of the line that was ripped and hotter than hell.

“Hey, Olia, is it legal for me to kidnap a fan?” he asked, not even aware of the words coming out of his mouth.

“I don’t think so, sir,” Olia said, frowning. “Are you okay? You look a little…” She moved her hand back and forth in a so-so motion. “Not okay. If you don’t mind my saying so.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I just…shit, do you see that guy over there?” He tried to subtly motion with his head to the beefy guy with the undercut. “Is it weird to date a fan?”

“I wouldn’t know, sir.”

“Oh, right. Well…” he looked back at the man and then back to the screaming girls immediately to his right. “I’m gonna go for it. If he’s here, he’s gotta at least _like_ me, right?”

“I would venture to say that that’d be the case, sir.”

Lance grinned. “Sweet.” He pursed his lips and thought for a moment. _But what if he_ doesn’t _want to get to know me?_ he thought. He shrugged at his own thoughts, concluding, _I can always_ compel _him to go out with me, and then_ afterward _he can fall in love with me on his own._

“Yeah, this should go perfectly!” Lance said aloud, earning some odd looks from his fans. He felt heat rush to his cheeks. “Oh, uh…don’t worry about it.” He gave one last look to Olia, plastered a smile onto his face, and began meeting fans. The entire time, though, he was hyper-aware of the one he _really_ wanted to get to know, and was growing increasingly more anxious as he met fan after fan. Finally, _finally_ , he could see the man out of the corner of his eye, and holy _shit_ he was even hotter up close. That chiseled jawline he could cut his _hand_ on, those steel-gray eyes that stared into his soul…even the little tuft of white hair he had was _so_ hot. And he had this badass scar across his nose that just made him look even _more_ hot. _Fuck_ was all Lance could think, followed by _I’d let_ that _happen_.

He felt his pulse quicken as he stood in front of the man, and gave him a bright smile. The man looked like he was so nervous he was about to puke, but he gave Lance a short wave and a grimace-like smile and wheezed, “Hi.”

“Hi!” Lance said, sticking out his hand to shake the man’s (which wasn’t _really_ allowed, but his bodyguard had looked away and he wanted to know if the man’s hands were big enough to swallow his own.) “I’m Lance.”

The man visibly swallowed and reached out to take his hand. Lance noticed that it was an impressively advanced prosthetic. _Interesting._ “I’m Shiro.”

“Shiro.” Lance tried the name out. _Yeah, he even has a hot name._ “Nice to meet you. You know,” he began, cocking a hip and raising an eyebrow, “I noticed you from _way_ over there.” He pointed over by where Olia was standing, and she nodded at him in acknowledgement.

“R-really?” Shiro said, obviously taken aback that a celebrity like Lance would notice _him_.

“Um, have you looked in a mirror lately? Because hot damn.” Lance grinned, and his hand was now loosely grasping Shiro’s because fuck if he was gonna let go.

Shiro turned bright red and refused to meet Lance’s eyes. “Um..thank you..”

Lance beamed. “I give credit where it’s due. And you deserve it in spades.” He clicked his tongue and shot Shiro a pair of finger guns. “You're smokin’ hot, man.”

Shiro looked like he was about to explode, but he _finally_ made eye contact. _Bingo._

Lance batted his eyelashes and grinned, layering his voice just enough to _lightly_ compel the large man. He didn't wanna be too creepy. “Why don't you go out with me this evening?” The undertones of his offer were a little more aggressive, but his words seemed to have some sort of affect on Shiro, because the man froze on the spot and his eyes widened.

“S-Seriously? You'd want to go out with _me?”_

_“_ Um, duh?” Lance said, reaching out and laying a hand on Shiro’s bicep. _OKAY WHAT THE FUCK,_ Lance thought, _no one should be allowed to be that buff. He could literally crush me. And I'm a motherfucking vampire with superstrength._

“I-I mean…sure, I'd love to,” Shiro replied, and Lance's heart flipped at that little grin on his face. _Thank god for compulsion, huh?_ “Where do you want to go? I know that you're…uh…”

“Famous? Amazing? Incredible? I know,” Lance said, winking. “I'll have a car come get you. You can just give my publicist your information.”

Shiro seemed to deflate a little, and Lance couldn't help but feel like he fucked up. “But—I can be there when the car gets you? So you're not by yourself,” Lance ventured.

That seemed to do the trick, and the dopey lovesick grin returned to Shiro’s face. Lance had to repress a sigh of relief. “Why don't we do eight tonight? I have an interview later, but that's my only other engagement.” He blew a kiss at Shiro and added, “See you tonight!” before moving down the line to other fans.

 

————————

 

Shiro couldn't believe it. His _idol_ asked him out and seemed _actually_ interested in him. Not that he wasn't worth being interested in—he knew he was attractive, but it never occurred to him that _Lance_ would think he was attractive.

He had to tell Keith. Keith would lose his fucking _mind_. Honestly he was looking forward to Keith’s reaction—the illustrious celebrity coming to Shiro and asking if he wanted to go out. The only thing he found odd was Lance’s eyes widening a little _too_ wide when they spoke, but who knew the weird habits of famous people.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off Lance as his bright smile graced every other fan under the awning. He was sad that the exchange didn’t last longer, but now he had a guarantee that he would be able to get to know Lance better that night.

Keith came back around to get Shiro from the event about half an hour later, after he’d given Olia his contact info, and noticed that there was something going on with Shiro. And Shiro knew it; he was sure he was glowing.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Keith asked, eyeing Shiro suspiciously as he approached. “You look…too happy.”

“Isn't a guy allowed to be happy after meeting his idol?” Shiro replied, practically vibrating with excitement. “In other news…guess who’s going out with him tonight?”

Keith's jaw hit the floor. “No way.”

“Yeah,” Shiro said, grinning. “I'm as shocked as you are.”

“Wait, seriously? Like, he's seriously asked you out and you're going on a date.” Keith's eyes were the size of saucers and Shiro had to repress a giggle at his shock.

“I know, I had trouble believing it too. But it's so exciting, right?” Shiro clapped Keith on the shoulder, and Keith nearly buckled under the force of it. “This is the best day of my life.”

“Do you even know where you're going? What to wear? You've gotta be freaking out, dude, how are you this calm?”

Shiro shrugged. “Adrenaline? High on endorphins? Who knows.”

They continued to walk until they reached the car, and they both climbed in and headed back to their apartment.

“You do understand that this is a _celebrity_ you’re going out with, right?” Keith asked, and Shiro looked back at him questioningly. Keith sighed and rolled his eyes. “You know, paparazzi? You will most likely get pictures taken of you. Have you even thought about that?”

Nope. Shiro hadn’t. Not that he particularly minded photographs being taken of him; it’s just that he had hardly processed the fact that they would be going _out,_ much less the consequences of celebrity.

“That’s fine,” Shiro replied, tapping the steering wheel. “I don’t mind.”

“You don’t mind? They’re gonna be all over y’all—”

“Keith.”

Keith huffed and slumped down in his seat, crossing his arms. “You’re sure this is a good idea? I mean, it’s exciting and great and all but he’s literally a famous person. I don’t want you to get your hopes up or anything.”

“You do realize that I’m not a normal civilian, though, right?” Shiro countered. “I had my fair share of pictures taken without my consent when I came back from _space_.”

“Yeah, not the best judgement call, dude,” Keith said, narrowing his eyes at Shiro. “Fine. I can tell you really want to do this. I’ll let it go. Just be careful, okay?”

Shiro pulled up to their apartment complex and nodded. “I understand. I will be, I promise.”

They got out of the car and Shiro immediately headed for his closet to find _something_ presentable. God knew Keith wouldn’t be able to help; that boy had no sense of fashion whatsoever. He ran his hand over the sleek fabrics of his suits, contemplating whether he should dress up that much or not. Just as he was wondering whether it was better to be over or underdressed, he received a phone call from an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Is this Shiro?”

“…yes. Who is this?”

“It’s Lance!” The cheery voice said, slowly becoming more recognizable.

Shiro nearly dropped the phone. “L-Lance?”

“The one and only. I realized that you may not know what to wear for our date tonight, so I got Olia to give me your contact. …Is that okay?”

Shiro coughed to clear his throat. “Yes, of course. So…”

“Oh! Right! The reason I called. I think a suit would be perfect. You…do have a suit, don’t you?”

Shiro laughed. “Yes, Lance, I have a suit.”

“Perfect! The car will get you around 8. With me in it. Of course.”

“Thank you for letting me know, that was really thoughtful,” Shiro said, and Lance laughed.

“It’s no big deal. I’m sure you’re nervous—so am I—so I wanted to make this as painless as possible.”

Shiro smiled and gripped the phone a little tighter. “Thank you.”

A pause. “Okay, see you soon! ‘Bye,” Lance said, and the line clicked before Shiro had an opportunity to reply in kind.

Now that Shiro had a plan for what he was looking for, he returned to his closet with fresh eyes and a purpose. He didn’t even bother speculating what they’d be doing, and—

_Bzzt bzzt. Bzzt bzzt._

“Hello…?”

“I forgot to tell you what we were doing!” Lance said breathlessly. “I’m sorry!”

Shiro was almost bent over laughing, barely able to catch his breath to reply, “Good to hear from you again, Lance.”

“Oh, hush—don’t bother eating dinner because we’re eating and then we’re going to a club later.”

“A club?” Shiro asked, eyebrows lifting. “Are you sure you want to be seen with me at a club?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” The way Lance asked it was so innocent and unassuming that Shiro’s heart melted.

“No reason. Whatever you want to do!”

“Oh, I guess a suit wouldn’t work for the club…” Lance mused, and Shiro imagined his eyebrows scrunched together in thought. It made for an adorable picture. “Maybe wear something different. Wear classy going-out clothing.”

“Classy going-out clothing?” Shiro repeated with a lopsided grin. “I don’t know if I have that.”

“I mean, we could go shopping for you but I didn’t think that you’d want to do that as a date. Maybe next time.”

“You’re anticipating a next time?” Shiro asked, caught off-guard.

“Yes? Aren’t you?” Lance sounded like he was equally caught off-guard, like he hadn’t realized that he’d said what he did.

“Um…I mean, I hope so? I’m hopeful?” Shiro said, suddenly nervous. What if he said the wrong thing?

“Great! Okay, well, change of outfit, classy club clothes is the dress code for tonight. Chat at you later!” And that was that. The line went dead and Shiro was once again left with an ended call and lots of confusion.

“Back to the drawing board, I guess,” he muttered, turning once again to his closet and searching for something that fit “classy club clothes” as well as he was able.

 

—————

 

Lance had started to get nervous. He plucked at the loose fabric of his tank top, which was layered underneath a stylish leather jacket. His jeans were ripped just enough to show some skin, but not too much that it looked like he had been mauled by a bear, and he topped off the outfit with a flat-brimmed black hat. Casual club-wear, just like he’d said. He sat in the car, anxious, and unconsciously reached toward the side of the vehicle where there was a built-in cooler full of ice.

“Olia, how weird would it be if I drank one of these while he was in here?” Lance asked, holding up a frosty blood bag he’d retrieved from the cooler.

“I don’t think that would be a wise choice, sir,” she replied, looking up at him from her tablet. “Besides, you don’t know for sure that he’s compelled.”

“Olia, what are the odds that someone like Shiro would go out with me? Be real, here, there’s no way he’s not coming out with me uncompelled.” Lance stabbed a straw in the bag and sucked, staring Olia dead in the eye.

“I think you underestimate yourself, Lance,” she said, and Lance rolled his eyes.

“Sure, okay. Well, I’m starving, so I’m eating this before we go to dinner.”

“It appears that I cannot convince you otherwise.”

“It’ll take me another three seconds to drink this, it’s fine. We’ve still got a little ways until his apartment,” Lance said, picking up the pace a little more than usual. Now that Olia had placed doubt in his head, he hoped that his little slip up earlier didn’t sound as strange as it would have. If Shiro wasn’t compelled, his confidence that they would go out again must have come across as…arrogant?

Strangely, this time, he didn’t really want Shiro to think that.

That he was arrogant.

He was cocky, sure, but come on, he was every bit as hot as he thought he was, and he was charming and charismatic…but not arrogant.

He quickly finished the bag and stashed it in the trash compartment, successfully hiding the evidence from anyone who might enter the car in the next, oh…five minutes.

The car came to a stop five minutes later, rocking gently back and forth as the driver put them in park. Lance quickly sprung out of the car, ignoring the protests of his bodyguard and Olia, and bounded up the steps to Shiro’s apartment.

After rapping on the door quickly, Lance placed a blinding smile on his face and waited for the door to open. He heard the latch _click_ , and his heartbeat sped up as he waited for the door to open to reveal—

“Keith?”

The man blinked back at him, shocked. “Yeah?”

“From college? Do you not remember me?”

Keith shook his head and squinted, as if trying to place him. _Are you kidding_ — _he doesn’t remember me!_ Lance thought angrily, starting to get frustrated.

“I’m Lance? You know, from freshman theater? You were always late to class but somehow did better than I did on the exams?”

Keith scratched the back of his neck and blinked slowly. “Is that right?”

He opened his mouth to retort when Keith was brushed to the side by a muscular arm, revealing the very man Lance was desperate to see.

“Lance!” Shiro said, breathless. “You…came up? You didn’t have to do that, I would’ve come down—”

“Don’t worry about it! I was just shocked to see that Keith was your roommate,” Lance said, trying to disguise the distaste in his voice. “You know, Keith and I were rivals in college.”

“Were not.”

Lance frowned. “You’re giving me wrinkles.”

Keith shrugged and retreated into the apartment. “Whatever.”

“You ready to go?” Lance asked Shiro, choosing to ignore Keith’s rudeness and looking up at the man eagerly.

“Yeah.” Shiro looked over his shoulder and said something unintelligible to Keith, then stepped outside to join Lance on the stoop. “Sorry about him—he does remember you, he just would never admit it.”

Lance’s jaw dropped. “ _Really?_ Well huh! Maybe it’s because I’m so famous,” he said, pretending to flip long hair over his shoulder. He realized how that might have sounded and turned back to give Shiro a sheepish look. “Sorry, that was a little self-aggrandizing of me.”

Shiro’s eyebrows rose. “No problems here. I think the real reason is that he just doesn’t like drawing attention to himself, so he didn’t want to associate himself with you immediately.” He leaned over conspiratorially and murmured, “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve asked him about you many a time.”

Lance looked up at him in surprise, and he grinned when he saw the pink dusting Shiro’s cheeks. “Aw, Shiro, do I have a _fan_?” he cooed, laughing. “Do you have a crush on me?” This time, when he asked, he attempted to compel Shiro to give him the answer, and just like before, Shiro freely answered. 

“Yes, honestly. I do. It’s…kind of embarrassing,” Shiro said, turning a deeper red. “But I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

“Well,” Lance said as he continued traipsing down the stairs, “I learned a fair few things about _you_ , as well.”

Shiro’s eyes grew wide. “What did you hear?” Lance could hear him audibly swallow. He grinned, and once he hit the bottom step, whirled around.

“The famous astronaut Takashi Shirogane, youngest pilot ever to be recruited for a shuttle flight—basically my hero,” Lance said, “Who would have thought that the big, beefy man I asked out would happen to be one of my childhood heroes, too.” He grimaced. “Well, teenage heroes, anyway.”

Shiro coughed, like he’d choked on his own spit. “H-how’d you find out?” Shiro asked, turning ever redder in the face.

“Easy. Olia Googled you.”

Shiro looked like he could have face-palmed, and the expression on his face almost made Lance laugh outright. “You are certainly a piece of work,” Shiro said, shaking his head and managing a smile. “But a very _cute_ piece of work, so I guess I’ll put up with you.”

“Well excuse you, Mister Forward!” Lance exclaimed, playfully batting Shiro’s…surprisingly sturdy chest. “How do you know there’ll be enough time to ‘put up’ with me?”

Shiro laughed, halfway throwing his head back with it. “You told me so yourself.”

Lance snapped his fingers. “Damn. You’re right.”

They’d approached the car, now, and Lance’s bodyguard opened the door for them. Lance slid in first, with Shiro following behind once he realized that that was just the way Lance operated.

“By the way,” Lance said, giving Shiro a lengthy eye up and down, “way to stay on dress code. I mean, _shit._ You look good.”

Shiro looked down at himself and shrugged. “It’s the closest thing I had to—” air quotes “—’casual club wear’ as I could find.”

Lance looked at the sleek black shirt that clung to Shiro’s every curve and his black pants, accompanied by a pair of intimidating boots, and realized that he may have made a mistake in not inviting Shiro directly back to his apartment instead. He didn’t think he’d be able to hide his attraction _at all_.

“Well,” Lance said, once he’d collected his thoughts into a coherent string of words, “you look amazing. Perfect. Those boots can step on me any time.”

“With me in them, I presume?” Shiro said playfully, and Lance’s heart swooned when he saw the pink of his tongue peeking out between his teeth.

“ _Exactly_ ,” he breathed. “Definitely. Please.”

Shiro winked at him and said, “Maybe later,” and Lance could have passed out, he was so hard.

“Shall we go, sir?” Olia asked, and it suddenly occurred to Lance that she was sitting in the limo with them.

“Yes, please, let’s go to dinner,” he said, resisting the urge to fan himself.

“Right away, sir.”

“So where are we going?” Shiro asked, and Lance couldn’t take his eyes off the way his hands were twisting in his lap.

“Ever heard of Altea?” Lance asked, and Shiro’s eyes widened.

“Are you sure?” he asked. Lance grinned.

“Of course! It’s one of my favorite places. I see that you’ve heard of it.

“I haven’t been but one time, but it was amazing. Are you sure that I'm dressed appropriately?” Shiro asked, fiddling with his shirt.

“Hon, I basically have one area of the restaurant blocked off for just us. It’s not going to be a problem,” Lance tried to reassure him, but found that he was just making things a little worse.

“You went through all this trouble for me?” Shiro asked nervously, and Lance shook his head vigorously.

“No, no, I do this every time. Seriously! I don’t like being bothered while I eat and this prevents other patrons from trying to take pictures of me.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Lance placed his hand over Shiro’s and looked him in the eyes. “Really, it’s no problem.”

“Okay.”

Lance smiled brightly at him and patted Shiro’s knee. “We’re almost there.”

As if on cue, the car stopped in front of a tall building with a beautiful facade. The door opened and Lance slid out, holding out his hand to help Shiro out of the car as well. Lance smiled at him and squeezed Shiro’s hand briefly before letting go and heading toward the doors of the restaurant.

He cast a glance over his shoulder to make sure Shiro was following, unable to hide the happiness on his face. Lance ducked his head and smiled to himself as he opened the door for Shiro, who looked at him in surprise. Lance gestured toward the interior of the building with his head and Shiro walked over the threshold, slowing as he took in the massive foyer of the building’s lower level.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Lance said, placing himself at Shiro’s side and placing a hand on his arm.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Shiro said, eyes as wide as saucers. “It’s more amazing than I remember.”

The marble floors gleamed with the light of a chandelier hanging from the tall ceilings, and the stairs circled up and up from the ground floor, so high it got difficult to see where they ended.

“Do we _have_ to climb those stairs?” Shiro asked, and Lance laughed.

“No, thank God there’s an elevator,” he replied, gently tugging Shiro toward a hallway that housed three elevators. He pressed the button and leaned up against the wall as he waited for the elevator to be called.

“I’m really excited,” Lance added, beaming at his date. “If I’d known who you were earlier I would have definitely said so, but I didn’t recognize you with—”

“The missing limb, white hair and scar?” Shiro supplied, and Lance had the presence of mind to look sheepish. “I got into an accident after I got back planetside.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—”

“—It’s fine. I’d rather not go into it though, if that’s okay.”

Lance’s eyes grew wide. “Of course, I would never ask you to talk about something if you didn’t want to.” _Even though technically I could_ get _you to._

Shiro looked distant for a moment before Lance’s gentle squeeze on his arm brought him back. “Sorry.” He gave his best shot at a smile. “So what is _your_ favorite thing to eat here?”

Lance paused, briefly, realizing that he hadn’t been there in a while and wasn’t even sure if he _could_ eat anything. Technically he could, but it’d serve him no benefit. He would never be able to subsist on food alone again. _That’s depressing. “_ My favorite is probably the filet.” Lance winked. “Love me some good _meat_.” He added an eyebrow wiggle for good measure.

Shiro groaned and Lance couldn’t help but laugh. “You caught on to that faster than I thought you would,” Lance said, trying his best not to wheeze or choke on air.

“I _do_ have the capacity to catch onto an innuendo,” Shiro said, smirking, “I’m not _that_ old.”

Lance gasped and placed a hand over his chest. “I never said you were old! You don’t look a day over fifty.”

Shiro’s mouth dropped open, and the corners of his lips tugged up into a smile. “That is _cold_!” Had it been any other situation, Lance would’ve expected to be scooped up into those huge arms and carried off, but…well. This _was_ a first date and they were technically in public.

The waiter approached the table, apologizing for the intrusion, and Lance went ahead and ordered a bottle of wine for the table. After confirming that the wine was up to his standard, he encouraged the waiter to pour Shiro’s glass first, then his own. Afterward, he tilted the glass so it _clinked_ with Shiro’s.

“To getting to know each other,” Lance said with a bright smile.

Shiro’s smile was equally as bright. “To getting to know each other.”

After speaking for a short while, and ordering not long after, they had some time before the food came to discuss more about themselves. Shiro watched Lance with rapt attention as he spoke about his family in Varadero. Lance wasn’t used to having someone be this interested in his family, and he had to admit it made his stomach do flip-flops. He hadn’t talked about _normal_ , mundane stuff in so long; usually people wanted to know who he was fucking, or what he was doing in his free time. It really seemed like Shiro wanted to _know_ him.

Interesting.

He hadn’t included that in his compulsion.

Time seemed to pass so quickly once they received their food and continued their conversation. It was like they talked about everything and nothing all at once. Shiro laughed at all Lance’s jokes—like, _genuinely_ , if you could believe it—and hung on every word out of Lance’s mouth. Lance grew more and more conflicted as the night continued, though, as he realized that he may have accidentally over-compelled his date. Whoops.

“Shiro, uh…how’s the food?” he asked, dabbing his own lips with a napkin.

“It’s amazing, thank you so much for taking me here,” Shiro gushed, and Lance tried his best not to grimace as he attempted to smile.

“Of course. After this is done, do you want to go to the club?”

Shiro suddenly ground a palm into his eye. “Ouch,” he muttered, removing his hand and blinking violently several times. “Sorry, contacts. Maybe we could run by my place and get my glasses?”

It was like the world just did a cliche record-scratch and time stopped.

_Contacts?_

_He has contacts?_

It hit Lance all at once. He didn’t compel Shiro to come to this dinner after all. There was no way; Shiro wore _contacts_. Which _protected_ the wearer from compulsion.

No wonder all the blogs said to just give up on trying to compel people since the advent of ocular corrective devices.

He would have to tell Shiro that he’d been acting under the assumption that he was compelled, of course, but that could come later; who was to say that Shiro would want anything to do with him when he eventually discovered that Lance was a vampire. Could he even keep a secret? Shit.

“Lance?”

Shiro’s voice brought him back to reality and he quickly regained his composure. “Of course,” Lance replied, “that’s completely fine. Could you excuse me for a moment?” He rushed out of the area and pulled out his phone, dialing Olia.

“Sir? Is everything okay?” She sounded concerned.

“Yeah, everything is fine. Um, hey, so…Shiro may not be compelled. You were right. He wears contacts.”

“Then it would be safe to assume that he is there of his own volition,” she replied coolly.

“Yeah, okay, thanks, just wanted to make sure.” How lucky was it that Olia had a vampire for a wife? There weren’t many in their little corner of New York.

“Of course, sir.”

The line clicked, and Lance was suddenly faced with a very intimidating situation. He was on a completely-voluntary date with the hottest man he’d ever seen before. The hottest man he’d ever seen _wanted_ to go on a date with him. He’d—oh god—he’d said he had a crush on Lance! And that must have been true and offered up completely freely! Lance was going to have an aneurysm. He did his best to recover before returning to the table to a very concerned Shiro.

“Everything okay?” Shiro asked, eyebrows scrunched together. It made his nose wrinkle in a very cute way and knocked Lance for a loop.

“Peachy,” Lance replied, doing his best to keep his voice from cracking. “I’m doing great. How are you? Wanting to head out soon?”

Shiro glanced down at his empty plate and nodded. “We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m totally ready,” Lance said, nodding vigorously. Thankfully the restaurant had taken his card at the beginning of the meal, so he just had to sign off on the receipt and grab the card back before ushering Shiro out of the building.

“And you’re _sure_ everything is okay?” Shiro asked warily, clearly picking up on the change in Lance’s demeanor.

_Get a_ grip, _man!_ Lance thought. “I’m fine, I promise. Let’s get you changed out of those contacts, hmm?”

The car ride was awkward at first, but as Lance realized Shiro didn’t suspect a thing, and it settled in that this was a _real_ date to both of them, a giddy feeling bubbled up in Lance’s chest.

“So, what kind of club are we going to?” Shiro asked, smiling softly at Lance. Of course. The soft smile. The most effective weapon against vampires.

“It’s a dance club, but there’s a private area I usually reserve so I don’t have to deal with too much attention.”

“That’s interesting, I would’ve thought you love attention,” Shiro teased, and Lance gently batted his arm.

“Yes, I love attention, but when I’m on a _date_ with someone I’d rather have their attention, not fans’,” Lance admitted, giving Shiro a pointed glance. He was delighted to see a rosy blush color Shiro’s cheeks in response.

“Well, you certainly have mine,” Shiro said, ducking his head in mild embarrassment.

 

—————

 

Shiro was enamored with this man.

Utterly enamored.

And getting to know him more was like a dream come true for him. Lance divulged so much about his family so freely; his candor was refreshing, yet surprising. The dinner had gone by so quickly, it was like they’d just arrived before having to leave again. _Wow_ , was all Shiro could think as he watched Lance descend the stairs in front of him. They were soon ushered back into the car and given a nod by Olia, who then proceeded to tell the driver about their pit stop before heading to the club.

“Are you excited for going out?” Lance asked, looking a little less confident than he did earlier.

Shiro did his best to nod enthusiastically. “Absolutely, I’m just sorry we couldn’t go straight there.”

“It’s no problem, nobody gets to the club at 10:30 anyway,” Lance said, waving a nonchalant hand. “I just want to get nice and liquored up before the dance floor gets too crowded,” he added, winking at Shiro. Shiro gulped, then shook his head in the affirmative.

“That sounds wonderful. Like a great time.”

Lance beamed. “Great.”

The car pulled up to Shiro’s apartment building and he practically leapt out in his haste. “I’ll just be a minute,” Shiro said before closing the door and sprinting up the steps.

Unlocking the door was a challenge in his hurry, but he managed to burst in and surprise Keith, who was sitting on the couch in boxers and watching some game show on television.

“What happened to you? Date go bad?” Keith asked, raising both eyebrows in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you back ‘til tomorrow.”

“Need to get glasses,” Shiro wheezed. “Contacts hurt.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re breathing kinda heavy.”

Shiro could tell that Keith was fucking with him and chose to ignore him in favor of the bathroom. He washed his hands quickly before taking out the contacts gently and placing them in their case. “I’m _fine,_ Keith,” Shiro said, drying his hands on a towel before placing his glasses on his scarred nose. “Everything is fine.”

Keith looked skeptical, but shrugged. “Whatever, man. You going back out, then?”

“Yeah, Lance is waiting in the car.”

Keith pursed his lips. Shiro sighed. “You could’ve at least acknowledged that you knew him,” Shiro said, shaking his head. “You didn’t have to be so curt.”

Keith laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back. “He’s fun to mess with—gets all riled up.” He gave Shiro a shit-eating grin. “I wonder how riled up he’s gonna get tonight with you around.”

Shiro grabbed a pillow from their armchair and threw it at Keith. “Don’t even. We’re just going to the club. To get drunk. And _dance,_ oh _God_.” It suddenly occurred to Shiro that there was a very real possibility that _some_ action would be happening that night, and he instantly was terrified. “ _Keith_ ,” he said, utterly desperate. “What do I do?”

“You’re _just now_ realizing that Lance is probably hoping tonight’s gonna go a little more than well? Like, some canoodling action? Seriously?” Keith gave Shiro a flat look. “Have you looked in a mirror lately? I’m surprised he didn’t just suggest that you guys go straight to his mansion or whatever.”

“I wasn’t just going to assume something like that would happen! I’m a gentleman, Keith!”

Keith crossed his ankle over his knee and closed his eyes, then leaned his head back to rest against the couch. “I’m _just saying_ , I knew you were dense, but I didn’t think you were this dense.”

Shiro stuck out his tongue and headed toward the front door with his stomach now in knots. “I’m going, now.”

“‘Kay. Don’t come home early, please, I’d like to have naked time in peace.”

Shiro gaped at him. “Is that what you do when I’m not home.”

Keith waved absently. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I showered.”

“ _Keith!”_

Keith grinned. “Have fun on your date,” he sang, and Shiro briskly walked out the door. The moment Shiro was outside, he shook his head roughly before walking down the steps to the waiting vehicle.

“Everything okay?” Lance asked when he opened the door. “You were gone kinda a long time.”

“Keith divulged some details that were a little scarring, but otherwise, everything is fine,” Shiro said, shuddering.

“You guys must be close,” Lance said, and Shiro could’ve sworn the look was suspicious.

“Yeah,” Shiro replied, shrugging as nonchalantly as he could. “I love the guy, but sometimes his habits appall me.”

“Ah.”

Shiro snorted a little. “Keith is…a unique person. Great friend, but a little socially inept.”

Lance nodded. “I gathered as much from college. Not the most…socially graceful, either.”

“Oh god, no.”

Shiro was pleased to see Lance crack a smile. _Score. Further awkwardness avoided._

The car pulled away, headed for the club. The sun had already gone down, dousing the evening in a purplish black, and Shiro watched as Lance’s face was illuminated by street lamps they passed.

Shiro cleared his throat. “I’m uh, really glad you asked me out,” he said, shifting somewhat uncomfortably. “The most I was hoping for was a photo or something, and here I am, sitting with you in this fancy car, headed to a club.”

Lance’s teeth practically glowed in the darkness. “Of course!” He reached over and put a hand on Shiro’s large forearm. “I’ve had a really wonderful time. You’re a really sweet guy. Those guys are hard to come by.”

Shiro blushed. “You’re so _personable._ It’s crazy. I never thought someone so famous would be so…cool.”

Lance ducked his head and chuckled. “I’m not really that cool. The coolness is a result of really great marketing and a predisposition for making a fool of myself strictly in private.”

Shiro grinned. “So no making a fool of yourself tonight? No getting wasted?”

Lance pointed at him and replied, “Now I didn’t say _that_. I’m always down to party, but hit me with a few shots and I get really loose.”

“You don’t say,” Shiro said as his eyebrows shot up.

Lance seemed to realize the implications of what he said and playfully bumped Shiro. “Not like _that_ , geez. I just mean there’s a higher probability that I’ll end up dancing on a table with every additional shot.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m not _loose_ , Shiro.”

“I never said you were.”

“It’s written all over your face!”

“I didn’t say anything!”

Lance huffed out of faux indignation and leaned back into the plush backseat. He muttered something unintelligible and Shiro leaned forward to try and catch it. As he did so, the car jerked to a stop and sent Shiro’s face crashing right into Lance’s chest with an _oof._

Shiro reared back in horror once the car had stopped moving. “I am _so_ sorry,” he said, “are you hurt or anything?”

Lance laughed and waved him off. “I’m fine. How’s your nose? You hit it kinda hard when you bonked it against my sternum.”

Shiro reached up to touch it and was happy to find that the lingering shock was starting to wear off. “It’s fine. So…I’m assuming we’re here?”

Lance peered out the window. “Yep. Thankfully nobody cares enough to take any pictures tonight, so it looks like we’re in the clear.” He exited via the door Olia had opened, and Shiro followed close behind. They approached the bouncer, who nodded to Lance and opened the door for them to enter.

“Sal,” Lance replied, giving him that winning smile. “Good to see you.”

“Who’s your friend?” The large man asked, eyeing Shiro.

Lance grinned. “The youngest pilot to ever go to space.”

Sal’s eyebrows lifted. “You don’t say.”

Shiro spluttered and said, “It’s not a big deal, really,” but Lance just pushed him forward into the club with a wave to Sal, mercifully cutting off any further comments.

Lance wormed around some people, taking the lead and taking Shiro’s hand as they waded through the crowd of people to where their VIP table sat. Lance took the liberty of ordering a round of tequila shots for them, just to kick things off. Shiro was a little uncomfortable, but definitely not opposed to loosening up with some alcohol.

“Do you wanna dance later?” Lance asked, raising his voice over the electronic music the DJ was playing.

Shiro nodded, then realized it was probably hard to see his response in the dark. “Yeah, sure,” he replied, equally as loud over the music.

Lance grinned. “Cool.” The server came back over with their shots, and Shiro took the glass gratefully from the tray. Lance raised his glass to _clink_ it against Shiro’s before touching it to the table and knocking it back. Shiro did the same, and was surprised by the lack of burning sensation.

“This is really smooth,” Shiro said, unable to keep the bewilderment out of his voice.

Lance winked at him. “Only the best for you, boo.” Shiro flushed at the pet name and tried to remind himself that that was probably something that Lance told nearly everyone. It’s not like he called him _babe_ or—

“Hey, babe, you wanna take a few more shots and then hit the dance floor?” Lance asked, ever the picture of nonchalance.

It took a lot of self-control for Shiro to keep his jaw off the floor. “Y-yeah,” he stammered, taking Lance’s proffered hand and following him to the bar.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get the server to bring us drinks?” Shiro asked as soon as he was within range. “It’d be easier.”

Lance shrugged. “I kinda’ wanna do this myself.”

“Okay.” Shiro watched Lance order two hefty shots, waving mildly at the fans that had begun taking pictures. “What shots did you get?” he asked, taking the shot of greenish liquid from Lance’s hand.

“Just try them—they'll knock you on your ass but they taste amazing,” Lance said, grinning. They clinked their glasses together and Shiro downed his shot, fully expecting a burn, but realized that it kinda tasted like juice. He looked at Lance in alarm.

“…How much alcohol is in these, exactly?” Shiro asked, eyes widening as he stared at the empty glass in his hand. “I want eleven more.”

Lance laughed. “I know, right? They’re so good. And I don’t even _know_ what alcohol is in them—other than Jameson—I just know they’re delicious.”

“ _What?_ There’s no way whiskey is in _that_.”

Lance gave him an exaggerated shrug. “That’s what _I_ said!”

Shiro looked at him sheepishly. “Can we get more?”

In lieu of answering, Lance turned back to the bar and ordered two more each of the shots, and Shiro realized he was probably going to be on the ground faster than he thought he would be. _Oh well,_ was his last lucid thought before taking two of the shots in succession. After a few minutes, he felt his body start to relax. He noticed Lance was looking at him with a funny expression, and Shiro furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“You wanna drink?” Lance asked. “Like, a drink-drink, not a shot.”

Shiro eyed the bar behind Lance and shrugged. “Sure.”

Lance stared at him for a second before prodding, “What kind of drink do you want?”

“Oh!” Shiro was an idiot. “Vodka tonic.”

Lance turned back to the bar, leaving Shiro alone with his thoughts once more. _This guy is cute. A little strange, definitely too famous to be really into me, but he’s charming. If he asked me to go home with him, I wouldn’t say_ no _._

In that moment, Shiro made up his mind. He was going home with Lance tonight.

“Vodka tonic,” Lance said, jarring Shiro from his thoughts with a plastic cup held out to him. “I got you a double.”

“Lance—”

“And a whiskey sour for me!” Lance held up his drink with a grin. “Let’s get wasted, bitch.”

Shiro laughed and followed Lance onto the dance floor, allowing his hand to just graze Lance’s hip. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face when he felt Lance lean into his touch. By the time Lance finally found a spot on the dance floor that could accommodate both of them without too much jostling, Shiro was pleasantly buzzed and ready to get down.

 

—————————

 

Lance had never felt more delicate than when Shiro’s hand encapsulated his waist on the dance floor, and he was _loving it._ Shiro had gotten behind him (as hoped) and placed his hand on Lance’s waist, but left ample space in between them in a silent question. _Do you wanna dance?_

Fuck _yes_ Lance wanted to dance. Lance wanted to be wrapped up in those beefy arms and taken all the way to _bed,_ but that was neither here nor there. Lance took a tentative step back, allowing the hand on the side of his waist to slide toward the front, tickling the skin underneath his tank top. His lips curled up into a triumphant smile when Shiro’s grip tightened on his torso, pulling him closer.

“It’s okay if you wanna dance on me,” Lance spoke loudly over the music, leaning back so he could hopefully catch Shiro’s ear. In response, any remaining space between them disappeared, and Lance felt the warmth of Shiro’s body melting into his own. _Yes!_ He mentally cheered.

“That okay?” Shiro said hot in his ear, gently rocking from side to side and taking Lance with him. Sparks shot up Lance’s spine and spread outward to his fingertips. He had thought they had chemistry before, but…damn.

“Absolutely,” Lance breathed, then realized Shiro probably couldn’t hear him. Instead, he nodded enthusiastically. He was pretty sure his exhale had been tinged with a moan, anyway, and that would’ve been embarrassing. Not that grinding into someone’s crotch with your ass is particularly dignified, but fuck, it felt good, and that was what mattered.

Lance covered Shiro’s hand with his own, briefly squeezing Shiro’s fingers as he downed the rest of his drink. He noticed that Shiro wasn’t finished with his, so he delicately plucked the drink from his hand and stacked his cup underneath Shiro's. He chuckled as he handed it back and wrapped the fingers of Shiro’s prosthetic back around it. It was a small gesture, but it felt surprisingly…coupley. It felt nice.

A new song picked up with a faster beat and the gentle rocking turned into full-on _grinding_. Lance's semi-intoxicated brain took that as “time to fucking drop it low and get dirty on the dance floor.” So of course, in true Drunk Lance fashion, he dropped it low, and as he came up, made sure to drag his ass temptingly across Shiro’s legs. He felt fingers grip his waist tightly, almost tightly enough to bruise.

It was great.

The possessiveness of the gesture was arousing, and prompted Lance to grind back a _touch_ harder than he had been before. He could feel Shiro through his pants, which was so, so hot. Fuck, he wanted to take this guy home _now_.

“I’m gonna go throw this away,” Shiro murmured, lips pressed against Lance’s neck before disappearing. Lance instantly missed the heat of Shiro’s body against his, but knew that he would return quickly; and sure enough, he did. To Lance’s delight, he pressed up against Lance even closer than he did before, sending a shiver up his spine. They began to dance again, this time to a song more upbeat than the last, and Lance leaned his head back against Shiro’s solid chest. _What I wouldn’t give to stick my face between those pecs,_ Lance thought, feeling them flex behind his head as they moved. Shiro was running his hands up and down Lance’s sides, bringing up the edges of his tank top just enough so that he grazed the skin underneath. It was intoxicating, but Lance’s buzz was starting to clear; he needed another drink. Spinning in Shiro’s arms, he wrapped his own around Shiro’s neck and tried his best to speak without shouting, “Drink?”

“Yeah, sure,” Shiro said back, smiling that bright smile of his. Lance followed behind Shiro, weaving in and out of drunken couples on the way back to the bar. He ordered another round for himself and Shiro, two drinks accompanied by two bright blue shots. Lance grinned and took the shots, holding the other out to Shiro, who raised an eyebrow. Lance gestured toward the shot.

“Trust me, it’s good.”

They touched the shot glasses together and tossed them back; god, how Lance loved shots. Especially ones that—

“I can’t taste any alcohol in that!” Shiro exclaimed. A rosy blush had spread over his cheeks and across the scar on his nose. It was _very_ cute.

“I know, right? I could have so many of those. Watch out, though—they’re dangerous.” Lance winked. “You wouldn’t want to get _too_ drunk.”

“What, you don’t think I can keep up?” Shiro said in a mildly affronted tone. Lance knew he was joking, though, because Shiro couldn’t keep the stupid grin off his face.

“ _No_ , that’s not what I think—I just…don’t wanna black out tonight. That’s all. There’s some things I’d like to remember.” He was standing really close to Shiro now, and had a hand resting dangerously close to a pec. When did his hand get there?

“Oh, really? Like what?” Shiro said, but his tone indicated he knew exactly what Lance was talking about.

Lance rolled his eyes. “You're trying to be coy and it’s not working.” _Yes it is._

Shiro towered over him, looking down at him with dark eyes and Lance forgot for a moment that he technically was stronger than Shiro now. It was nice to forget.

But then he remembered. He’d had a fucking blood bag in the car before they picked him up. He wasn’t _human_ anymore and that fucking sucked.

Ha. Sucked.

“Lance?”

Lance looked up into Shiro’s now-concerned eyes and he sighed. Mustering all his willpower, he stood straight and removed his hand from Shiro’s chest, giving him his best smile. “Let’s go dance some more, I like this song.” He didn’t even know the song, but that didn’t matter. He wanted to get his mind off the fact that when Shiro found out what he really was, he’d probably run for the hills, screaming.

Shiro’s cool prosthetic fit into Lance’s hand and he tried not to think about the inevitable as he waded through the crowd of bodies back to their approximate location on the dance floor. They resumed dancing, and while it was enjoyable…it wasn’t enough. He had to tell Shiro. Fuck, he thought that he’d compelled Shiro on a _date_ with him not even two hours ago! And now that he knew Shiro was actually out with him because he wanted to be was a _lot_ to process.

He really, really hoped this next drink would quiet the static that seemed to live in his head 24/7. _Here goes nothing._

As he sucked the last dregs of his drink out through a straw, he realized he felt a little better. A little looser. More fun. It was a welcome relief. But what he didn’t realize was that Drunker Lance had loose lips and no filter and he was about to ruin this whole thing in one fell swoop.

Sober Lance? Don’t know her.

“Hey, wanna know a secret?” Lance said, turning in Shiro’s arms and waggling his eyebrows.

Shiro gave him a gentle smile. “Sure.”

Lance leaned up on his tip-toes and whispered loudly in his ear, “I’m a vampire.”

Shiro looked at him in confusion briefly before laughing. “A vampire, huh?”

Lance stuck out his bottom lip. “You don’t believe me?”

“Well,” Shiro said, reaching up to run a hand through Lance’s hair. “You _are_ kind of drunk.”

“I’m not kidding!” Lance insisted, huffing in frustration. “Come on—”

He dragged Shiro by the arm toward the back exit, passing the bouncer there and mouthing “ _We’ll be right back.”_

The parking lot was significantly darker and quieter than inside the club, but they could still hear the bass thrumming through the air. Shiro stood a short distance away and had a hand on his hip. His expression was amused and it was very apparent that Lance was not getting through to him.

_Why do you want to tell him now??_ the last of his sobriety cried. _You’ll ruin everything! Even if he doesn’t believe you, he’ll think you’re nuts!_

_Shut up, brain,_ Drunker Lance thought, _you’re stupid. This is a_ great _idea._

_“So…_ vampire?” Shiro repeated, jolting Lance out of his thoughts.

“Actually, yes—and I know I’m drunk right now but I’ll _prove_ it,” Lance slurred. He took the few steps between himself and Shiro and bared his teeth, showing his two sharper-than-average canines. “See?”

“I just see teeth, I don’t know what I’m looking for,” Shiro said, puzzled. He was slurring a little too, which Lance really should have accounted for. _Drunk Shiro is unpredictable Shiro,_ he thought.

“Fangs, Shiro! They’re fangs!”

Shiro squinted as he looked closer, giving him a hesitant look. “Wait, really?” Lance watched him feel his own canines, then poke Lance’s. “Ouch! Geez, they are sharp, I’ll give you that.” His eyebrows furrowed and his face scrunched as he thought, before relaxing in realization.

“You aren’t kidding?” Shiro asked, a look of trepidation appearing on his face. “No bullshit, you’re really a vampire.”

The increasingly more powerful sober part of Lance’s brain realized that he may have just made a huge mistake. “Um…yes?”

Lance knew he could’ve caught up to him. He was certainly fast enough to. But he was frozen in place, like someone had chained his feet to the floor.

 

————————

 

Shiro ran.

It wasn’t his finest moment, but he hadn’t really ever been great with relationships (of any kind, excluding his friendship with Keith) and it was a logical reaction to what just happened.

Lance was a vampire.

What the _hell_ was he supposed to do with that information? Lance seemed really adamant that he was telling the truth; if it had been an elaborate prank, he would’ve been more inclined to stay, but…Lance’s earnest expression was enough to convince him that it wasn’t a joke.

And now he didn’t know what to do.

He made it all the way back to the front lot, but when he approached the car, his steps slowed. “What am I doing?” he muttered to himself. Was he just going to ask Olia to leave? Just bail? That wasn’t very…cool.

Olia exited the car and walked toward him, frowning. “Where is Lance?” she demanded, and Shiro had the good sense to look dejected.

“He’s in the back parking lot…” he replied, finding it difficult to meet her sharp eyes.

“Why did you leave him?” Olia looked increasingly more concerned, and Shiro realized that Lance didn’t exactly have a bodyguard. But… _does he even need one?_ he thought. Given this newfound information, it was doubtful.

“He uh…told me something and I kinda’ ran away?” Shiro ventured, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it was shitty of me—”

Olia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Don’t tell me he told you he was a vampire.”

“…He told me he was a vampire.”

“Damn it,” Olia said, “of course he did.”

Shiro did a double-take. “Wait, what do you mean ‘of course?’”

Olia sighed. “He likes you and when he’s drunk and around people he likes, he turns into a blabbermouth. I told him he shouldn’t share that fact with too many people because ‘publicity’, but…well, you’ve met him. He’s also a relatively _new_ vampire so he hired me to help him adjust.”

Shiro’s eyes widened. “Wait, are you…?”

“A vampire? No. Married to one? Yes.”

“Well that must be an adventure,” Shiro said, unable to suppress a grin.

Olia stepped toward him and placed a hand on his broad shoulder. “You should give him a chance. He’s a good person and really, really likes you. Genuinely. He’s not out to suck your blood or anything.” She laughed. “He’s more of a ‘blood bag-only’ kind of guy.”

“I think I ran more out of shock than anything…I realize now that was probably a bad move.” Shiro looked at Olia very seriously. “I’ve been a fan of Lance’s for a very long time, but tonight I saw a side of him that I never dreamed that I’d be able to see. And I really, _really_ like that side.”

“Well then, what are you still doing out _here,_ then? Go back and talk to him about it. I’m sure he’s in the middle of panicking right now,” Olia said, pointing back to the club.

Shiro nodded vigorously. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” Turning on his heel, he sprinted toward the club, shoulder-checking Sal as he scooted past and earning himself an angry shout. “Sorry!” he yelled over his shoulder as he wove through the crowd of people inside, desperate to break through and get to the back lot.

He burst through the back door, looking around frantically. “Lance? Where are you?” He couldn’t see him anywhere, and the street lights weren’t necessarily the most helpful when it came to seeing.

“You came back.”

Shiro whirled around to find Lance sitting on the ground behind him with his back against the wall. “Lance,” he breathed. “I’m _so_ sorry.”

Lance waved, clearly still drunk and clearly distraught. “It’s fine. I don’t really blame you, running away from a freak like me.”

“Don’t say that,” Shiro said, taking a step toward him. “It was my fault. I should have given you a chance to explain. I’m still pretty drunk and my brain just panicked.”

Lance laughed sardonically. “Of course it did. I shouldn’t have said anything. There was no reason for me to.”

“I’m glad you told me,” Shiro insisted. “I would have wanted to know.”

“So you could know to run now instead of later, after getting invested?” Lance replied, shaking his head. “It was just stupid. My drunk brain decided it wanted to tell and fuck, do I regret that.”

“Please don’t.”

Lance peered up at him skeptically. “Why not?”

“I talked to Olia.”

At that, Lance’s eyes widened. “Did she explain?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“So you know I’m kinda new at this whole ‘vampire’ thing.”

“Yes.”

Lance sighed and lowered his eyes. “And after all that, you’re still gonna stick around?”

“Well, were your feelings genuine?” Shiro countered. “Mine were.”

Lance’s eyes snapped back up to meet Shiro’s. “At first, no, but after talking for a while…Shiro, I really want to get to know you.” Lance’s face grew pained. “I know I come across as a flirt, and that’s not _wrong,_ per se, but after getting to know you, I really, _really_ like you.”

“I like you too, Lance.” Shiro gave him a weak smile. “We can talk more about this in a less…” He glanced around and noticed a few smokers were looking at him funny. “…conspicuous place.”

“We could go back to my place? There's a significant lack of Keith there,” Lance said, and Shiro's heart lifted when he heard the accompanying chuckle.

“You really don’t like him, do you?” Shiro said, giving Lance a wry smile.

“I wouldn't say _that,_ more like he'd just get in the way of a hopefully _very_ productive conversation.”

Shiro blinked. _Does he mean…?_ Lance’s face indicated that he might mean productive in more ways than one. His drunk brain was a little too slow to catch onto innuendo.

He held out his hand for Lance to take, helping him up from the ground. Lance clung to him tightly, as if he was afraid Shiro would disappear at any moment.

“Let’s go inside, hm?” Shiro murmured in Lance’s ear. “We can close out and then head back to your place.”

Lance nodded, refusing to let go. “Okay.”

It didn’t take long for them to pay the bartender and escape the bar, heading back to the car. Olia just gave them a sidelong glance when Lance instructed the driver to take them back to his home. Shiro caught Olia’s eye and she lifted her eyebrows in a silent question. He looked over at Lance, who was still clinging to his arm, and sighed.

It took them a while to get to Lance’s apartment, leaving Shiro alone with his thoughts for far longer than he would have liked. He couldn’t seem to get Lance’s anguished expression out of his head. As a mercy, though, Lance seemed oblivious to Shiro's turmoil, judging by the way he curled more into Shiro’s side as they rode along. He looked down at the top of Lance’s head, tracing the slight curls of his hair with his eyes. _Is this a smart thing to do?_ he thought. _I definitely know Keith wouldn't approve._ He suddenly realized—did Keith know Lance was a vampire? Had Lance even been turned before then? It sounded like a freak accident, but neither Olia nor Lance gave him enough information to put the pieces together. _What am I getting myself into?_ Shiro thought, biting his lip. He watched the street lamps pass by, mesmerized by the soft glow of the lights that filtered through the windows. He almost didn’t realize that the car had begun to roll to a stop until Lance shifted and started to peel himself away from Shiro.

Once the car pulled up to the large and beautiful apartment building, Lance released Shiro’s arm and slipped out of the car, refusing both Shiro and Olia’s help. He was still a little drunk, if the sway in his step was anything to go by, but was determined to get into the building and up to his apartment without any assistance. Olia and Shiro exchanged a look before trailing after him.

“You’re coming with us?” Shiro muttered to Olia, who nodded once.

“I’m going upstairs only to make sure that Lance gets in safely, then I will be going home.”

“Ah.”

“Also I hardly trust you to stay, after what you pulled back at the bar.”

Shiro ducked his head in shame.

Olia continued, “He’s a strong person, but his heart is easily hurt. He likes you a lot—please hear him out.”

“Of course.”

They reached the elevators of the building and noticed that Lance didn’t even bother to wait by them. With a sigh, Shiro pressed the UP button.

 

—————-

 

“What took you guys so long?”

Lance stood, barefoot, in the doorway when Shiro and Olia arrived at his door. He watched Shiro’s eyes widen and smirked. “Nice place, right?”

Shiro nodded dumbly, eyes glued to the modern and enormous interior.

Movement at Shiro’s side reminded him that Shiro wasn’t alone. “Olia I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me so much,” Lance said, rolling his eyes.

Olia nodded. “I just want you to be careful,” she said, waving at Shiro and turning on her heel to head back to the elevators.

“I will be!” Lance called after her, and she waved over her shoulder without looking back. “She’s being overprotective as usual, I see,” he remarked to Shiro, who suddenly looked very nervous. He reached out and put a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, looking up at him with wide blue eyes. “Hey.”

Shiro pried his attention from its new target, the floor, to look him in the eye. Lance tried his best to give him a reassuring smile. “You wanna talk?” Lance asked, and was pleased when Shiro nodded once and moved to follow him back into the apartment.

Lance had to resist launching himself at his plush couch—and who would blame him, he just wanted to get comfortable for this potentially uncomfortable conversation. Shiro carefully sat in one of the armchairs flanking the couch, sitting ramrod straight and trying his best not to look at Lance.

“Shiro, c’mon, don’t get nervous _now_!” Lance said, draping himself over the arm rest closest to Shiro.

“I'm not nervous,” Shiro mumbled, still avoiding Lance's eye.

Lance gave him a flat look. “Well we both know that's a lie.”

Shiro remained silent.

Lance took a deep breath—or whatever he could, given he couldn’t exactly breathe—and decided to just launch into it.

“So based on our conversation tonight, you know that I’m a young vampire who just so happens to be a movie star. Movie star vampire? Movie star definitely came first.”

Shiro nodded slowly, and Lance could practically hear the gears turning in his head. “You’re a vampire. Wait—is anyone else in Hollywood a vampire? How’d you become one? Was it frightening? Was—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—Shiro. Babe. I’m gonna need you to tone down on the questions, there. I don’t want to overload your brain too quickly.

“But yes. I am a vampire. Although…not a very good one, apparently, ‘cuz I eat garlic and look great in photos and in mirrors—but I burn so bad in direct sunlight, so I guess that myth is true. It’s honestly…”

Lance had to think for a moment. _Not that bad?_ Was that what he was looking for? He licked his lips nervously, watching the way Shiro’s eyes darted down to his mouth and back up again. God, it wasn’t fair that he not only looked like a god, but smelled like a _fucking_ garlic knot—so warm, smelling just like _home,_ for god’s sake—and was so…dare he say, tantalizing. He’d been full earlier, and had been weaned off eating directly from people at this point, but the fact that Shiro was in his fricking house was wild to him. It drove him wild. Shiro’s scent was now _everywhere_. Hell.

He realized he’d been ever-so-slightly leaning into Shiro’s personal space and jerked his head back, far away from temptation.

He felt his face twist in pain as his stomach demanded more food. _Damn it_. It would always be a major bummer that normal food was metabolized too damn quickly for it to be filling. _Well….if he sticks around, he’ll probably see worse than me drinking blood out of a blood bag…_ Lance thought, pushing himself to his feet and leaning heavily on one leg. _Welp, here goes nothing._

“So, I’m starving, and you were gonna see sooner or later—can I just real, _real_ quick get me some of that sweet sweet O-negative blood from the kitchen?” He watched Shiro’s internal struggle happen in real time and didn’t like it one bit. He started to take back his request, but Shiro cut him off.

“Do whatever you need to, Lance,” he said, adjusting his glasses on his face. “I’ll be fine.”

God, this man was too good for him. Lance bit his lip as he walked to the kitchen for his snack. “I sure hope this doesn’t gross him out too bad,” he muttered, turning the blood bag over in his hands. Thinking better of the ‘Capri Sun approach’, he stabbed the bag and let its contents flow into a mug with Scooby-Doo’s face on it.

When he walked back into the living room, he witnessed a smile, like dawn breaking, appear on Shiro’s face.

“I loved Scooby-Doo as a kid,” Shiro said, laughing weakly. Lance plopped back down onto the couch with a grin.

“Oh really now?”

“Yeah, I’d watch it whenever it was on—I never really grew out of cartoons…” Shiro rubbed the back of his neck, face reddening by the second. Lance’s smile widened.

“That’s _adorable_ ,” Lance said, “god, I could kiss you that was so fucking cute. Holy _shit_ Shiro.”

Shiro laughed again, a little more fully this time, lifting Lance’s spirits.

“I take it you’re a fan, too, if you’ve got a mug that old,” Shiro added, leaning on the armrest of his chair. He seemed infinitely more relaxed now, which thrilled Lance. He really didn’t want to have the awkward “vampire” conversation with someone who looked like they had a stick up their ass.

“Oh yeah, I loved spooky stuff as a kid. Now that I _am_ one of the spooky stuff, though…” Lance hummed sadly. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“To answer your questions, no, not everyone is a vampire in Hollywood. Honestly I think I’m the only one, but I wouldn’t rule out some of the more popular, better-aging celebs being one,” Lance said. He took a slow sip from his mug, scanning Shiro’s expression. “The actual turning was…strange. I don’t remember much, and it was very hazy, but I know that it wasn’t on purpose and it wasn’t my choice—although I’m grateful for another chance at life.”

Lance chewed on his lip again, unable to keep his fangs from dropping down a little and pricking his lip. Lance saw Shiro’s eyes instantly snap to his mouth. “From what Olia and her wife told me, I was in a car accident—a hit and run on the side of the street. I don’t know why I was walking, but it was apparently dire enough where I was barely clinging to life anyway. I think Olia’s wife was so afraid that she’d have to watch someone die, and since she had an opportunity to save someone, she did.”

“So she…sired you?” Shiro asked. Lance raised a curious eyebrow and he ducked his head, turning a little pink at the ears. “Sorry, I don’t know much about vampires other than what I’ve seen on T.V.”

“I guess you could say that?” Lance said, shrugging. “I don’t hear her voice in my head or anything, if that’s what you mean. I think she _could_ talk to me telepathically, but chooses not to.” His face grew somber, and his heart sank. “I think she feels bad because I didn’t choose to be turned.”

Shiro had reached out to lay his metal hand on Lance’s arm, eyes full of sympathy. Lance didn’t know if he liked that look—it was exposing, and he was still feeling a little raw from the revelation at the bar.

Lance tried his best to regain his perky disposition, adding, “But now I’m super strong and fast, and as long as I make sure I keep my iron levels up, I look pretty much the same! It’s really not that bad.”

“So…what does that mean for your…relationships?” Shiro asked. Lance could practically smell his trepidation, his…hope? Maybe? Lance didn’t dare hope that Shiro was asking what a relationship with him might be like.

Lance tried his best to play it cool. “I guess I’d have one like any other relationship, except that I have to drink blood every so often and I don’t exactly _age_. I never really entertained the idea of being with someone long-term after turning.” Lance gave him a weak smile. “I became something of a playboy, I’m afraid. Broke quite a few hearts, but nobody really would have stayed around, anyway. I was just a pretty face and a good lay, which was fine with me.”

“I’m sure you’re more than that.”

Lance’s heart seized. “I’m not. Sure, that is.”

Shiro’s eyes were full of pity, and made Lance’s stomach twist. He took a sip of blood to try and quell the roiling sensation, but it didn’t seem to completely help. It was frustrating, it was angering; he didn’t want to be seen as someone to be pitied. He was a vampire, for god’s sake. He could crush bones to powder in his bare hands. And he was taken to pieces by one look from a man that had big gray eyes and a scar across his nose.

“So what does this mean, then?” Shiro asked after a time. He seemed to be struggling to process everything, but was trying his best. “I understand everything you’re saying to me, but I also know that you were being genuine when you said you had feelings for me.”

“I was.”

“Then what do we…do?”

“What do you think we should do?”

Shiro buried his face in his hands, then ran his fingers through his hair violently. His hair stood on end, which would have been funny had he not been radiating distress from every pore.

Suddenly, Shiro looked up and stared him dead in the eye. “Would it be totally insane for me to ask you on a real date?”

An incredulous laugh slipped from Lance’s lips. “What?”

Shiro had a hand in his hair and he broke eye contact. “I mean, it would be nuts, right? A human and a vampire? Dating? This is some Twilight shit right here, oh god. Am I Bella?”

Lance burst out laughing, so hard he was doubled over in his seat, shaking. “That’s what you’re worried about? Whether you’re Bella?”

“As opposed to what, exactly?”

Lance wheezed. “You know, maybe the logistics of certain activities we may choose to take part in?”

Shiro blinked at him. Lance slapped his forehead with his palm. _Of course I have to spell it out._ “Sex, Shiro. I’m talking about sex.”

Shiro’s eyes grew as wide as saucers as it dawned on him that yes, Lance wanted to fuck, and no, he wasn’t dreaming.

Lance cracked a crooked smile. “You realize that you’ve got the body of a god, right? And the personality of an angel?”

That got him. Shiro was now a deep red color in the face, ears and chest and it was a beautiful sight.

“This is amazing. God. Can I kiss you, please? I’ve been wanting to do it this entire night and I really feel like this is a good moment to do it,” Lance said, leaning his weight heavily on an elbow.

“You sure?” Shiro asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lance scoffed and rolled his eyes, reaching out to thread his fingers through the short hair at the nape of Shiro’s neck. “Yes,” he said, looking into Shiro’s beautiful eyes. “I’m positive.”

Their lips met without fanfare, just gently and softly, and warm. Lance hadn’t felt such warmth in so long, and it stirred up something within him that he forgot he even had. It spurred him to sit on his heels, pressing his cold lips harder into Shiro’s warm ones, and he inwardly preened when Shiro’s big arms wrapped around his waist to haul him over the armrest and into his lap.

“Whoa there, big guy—you sure you want me here?” Lance said, grinning from ear to ear before placing a soft kiss on Shiro’s nose.

Shiro ducked his head to nose into he crook of Lance’s neck and lay kisses there, humming happily in response.

“Guess that’s a yes,” Lance murmured, feeling tingles shoot through his body with every inch of skin discovered by Shiro’s lips.

“I’ll let you do whatever you want to me,” Shiro said lowly, kissing up Lance’s jaw and nipping the skin as he went. “Except maybe eat me as a snack,” he added, and Lance laughed outright.

“I promise, no biting without consent,” Lance said, placing a hand over his heart. Shiro hummed again and wrapped his arms tighter around Lance’s waist.

“So will you go out with me?” Shiro said, so softly he was almost inaudible. “I know it sounds crazy, but…I want to see what’s here—what this chemistry between us means.”

Lance’s eyebrows shot up and he pulled away, searching Shiro’s face with wide eyes. “You feel it too, then?”

Shiro chuckled; a sound that went straight to Lance’s groin. “Absolutely.”

Lance threw his arms around Shiro’s neck and buried his face in Shiro’s hair. “This is more than I ever thought I could have.”

Shiro stood, taking Lance with him in his arms, and Lance squeaked with joy. He carried Lance into the bedroom and set him delicately on the soft California King, like he was a treasure worth taking care of. Lance melted into the bed, incandescently happy, and as Shiro loomed over him on two arms, he sighed.

Shiro smiled down at him and leaned close, breath hot in his ear. “You deserve the world.”


End file.
